Peace on Earth
by voiceofdisbelief
Summary: One-shot. Written for a prompt on dirgesong's LJ. It's Christmas time in the End!Verse and Dean and Castiel find comfort where they can. Like all good festivities, contains sex and profanity.


A/N: Written for waitthereisalight's prompt on dirgesong's LJ:

Prompt: i want a really painful, denial!2014!Dean with a really jaded Cas but not so drugged out, preferably with Cas only falling love with Dean after he starts becoming the fearless leader. Does that make sense? :)) i love love love anything End!verse PROMPTER: waitthereisalight

I don't think it's as angsty as what was requested but I hope you like it!

December, 2012

Dean pulled on his gloves and scarf and headed outside. An axe rested just inside the door and he hefted it on one shoulder, stepping heavily on to newly fallen snow. It was 2am, Chuck's watch, but Dean suspected that the once-Prophet was fast asleep in the store room. Ordinarily, Dean would have snuck in there and tipped a can off the shelf, startling Chuck and causing him to flush and mumble something about 'inventory'. Tonight, however, Dean was happy to let it slide. Not a single Croat had breached the boundaries of camp for three months and even on patrol they would drive for miles around before they even spotted one. Dean wasn't stupid or inexperienced enough to believe that they could let their guard down now, but, with each day shorter than the last and Christmas fast approaching, Dean hadn't pressed the issue as hard as he would have to when the snows melted and the camp was accessible once more.

Castiel sat, shrouded in a thin wool blanket, on his porch and watched Dean trudge into the forest. Castiel followed Dean to Camp Chitaqua because Dean was his friend and Castiel was scared that, with Sam gone, Dean would do something stupid, like get himself killed. Of course, Dean had been getting himself killed since before Castiel had met him, but that didn't matter. Castiel had bound himself to Dean for good or former angel had lost the remnants of his Grace, and with them, his usefulness to Dean. Of course, he could do the work of any other human soldier now, but everything that had made him special, made him Dean's confidante, had left him. This had truly hit home only a few days ago.

_Chuck had tried to convince Dean that celebrating Christmas this year would provide a much needed morale booster. As the other man had waxed enthusiastic about the innovative ways in which they might trim the tree, or provide a decent semblance of a traditional dinner, Dean had grown irritated and stalked away towards the woods without a word. Castiel had given Chuck an apologetic look before following Dean. _

"_Dean, stop!" Castiel had called, but Dean ignored him. When Castiel caught up, he put a hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean whipped his body around and raised his arm and, for a moment, Castiel braced himself for the blow. It never came. _

_Dean looked at Castiel, chest heaving after his exertion, but also from pent-up things that Dean didn't talk about anymore. Castiel looked his friend in the eye and both men just stared at each other; Dean's breathing calmed and they stood, never breaking eye contact, anchoring each other to the earth for a scant moment while the rest of the world went to shit around them._

"_Why the hell would we celebrate a god that has abandoned us, Cas?" Dean finally broke the silence. _

_Castiel didn't have an answer. They walked back to camp together. _

Now Dean had walked alone into those same woods. Through the still, cold air, Castiel heard clearly, the sound of the axe head thudding into wood. Minutes later, he spied Dean, dragging a pine tree, by the trunk, through the snow, its sharp, green foliage trailing behind. Castiel slipped his feet into his boots and went to help.

"Maybe Chuck had a point," Dean says gruffly as Castiel lifts the end of the tree.

Camp is quiet, no one is venturing out at all in the snow, so Dean and Castiel plant the tree in an old half-barrel and decorate it with trinkets, scarves and garlands that Castiel donates from his own supply. He's never short of gifts from his admirers, some of whom come to him for spiritual advice, others for something more corporeal. Dean gives him a 'look' as he drapes a particularly gaudy pink sash over one of the branches.

"What?" Castiel asks, a trace of his old naivete showing through.

Dean smiles, small, but it's the first Castiel has seen in weeks, and shakes his head.

"Nothing, Cas. We need something to put on top though. Usually a star or an angel. How about it, Clarence? For the good of the camp?"

The glare Castiel gives him is reminiscent of the fiery soldier of God, Dean remembers meeting all those years ago.

"Guess not."

The next morning the camp buzzes with excitement. The tree is something familiar, but different to the everyday drudge. People start smiling at each other, taking time to talk about things other than patrol or the food shortages. Castiel is pretty sure he overhears Dean making plans to raid an old, abandoned gas station for presents for the camps' few children. Chuck rummages up some turkey SPAM and cranberry sauce that's only a year out of date. Dean chalks this Christmas up as a success and says so to Castiel as they sip rum by the tree.

Castiel doesn't know if it's the alcohol or the cold getting to him, but he feels the urge to reassure Dean by touch, to let him know what a difference this has made to the camp. But he keeps hands wrapped around his mug and looks up at the slightly crooked star atop the pine tree. Maybe next year they'll make an angel.

Christmas was the last good thing to happen to the camp for a while. Almost from the beginning, the new year was a nightmare. One of the few children in the camp had died of pneumonia and they had lost four other hunters when their car was overwhelmed by Croats. In every case, Dean had tried his best to comfort, or exact revenge, when necessary, but he felt hope slipping further away every day. Word filtered through that Lucifer, clad in the body of Sam Winchester, had been sighted three states over. Hope became a non-existent commodity.

Castiel knew that Dean's only objective was to find the Colt and put Lucifer down. He'd heard the screams, heard Dean's cries to Michael, begging him to return and take Dean as his vessel. Michael never answered.

When Dean had shouted himself hoarse and accepted that angelic assistance was no longer an option, he threw himself into training up hunters and bringing down Croats. He travelled for days on the merest rumour of the location of the Colt.

Occasionally, on a hunt or during a training session, some of Dean's old charm and humour would surface and Castiel's heart would twist in his chest. He gloried in the sight of Dean doing the things he did best. Some of Castiel's old feeling resurfaced too, and he would have to walk away. He would go to his cabin to drink or smoke and push his love for Dean somewhere dark and hidden.

In the middle of December, Chuck broached the issue of Christmas with Castiel, memories of last year's confrontation with Dean still too fresh in his mind. Castiel promised Chuck he would speak to Dean and set off in search of their fearless leader.

Dean is sitting in his cabin going over some maps with another of the hunters, when Castiel walks in.

"So if we grid this sector and take it one square at a time, we should be able to clear the whole zone in under a day," the other hunter said, pointing at the map.

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded in agreement, "Get a hunting party together, we'll head off at dawn."

The other hunter rolled up the maps and left, acknowledging Castiel with a tilt of the head as he headed out the door. Dean looked up at his friend and Castiel could see dark circles under his eyes.

"Maybe you should leave the hunt to the others tomorrow, Dean," Castiel started, "get some rest. You..."

"Cas, what the hell do you want?" Dean interrupted.

Castiel just looked at Dean, reproachfully. Dean's face softened.

"Cas...what is it?" he asked, more gently now.

Satisfied, Castiel plonked himself down in one of the empty chairs and put his feet on the table, crossing his legs at the ankle. He ignored the pointed look Dean gave him.

"We should talk about what we're doing for Christmas this year."

Dean's eyes were hard, "Are you fucking serious, Cas? What do we have to celebrate this year? Cos there sure as hell ain't to peace left on Earth."

"The effect last year was...morale-boosting. If anything, it's even more important this year."

Dean was silent for a moment.

"I can't do it, Cas. You and Chuck, take what you need, do what you have to do, but leave me out of it."

Castiel pulled his feet off the table and leaned towards Dean, "What difference would it make if Chuck or I arranged it, Dean," his voice suddenly harsh, "A washed-up prophet and a fallen angel? You are our leader, Dean. We have no one else. I have no one else."

"Don't you dare put this on me, Cas. I never asked you to stay!"

Castiel almost snarled and pushed himself out of his chair, "What would you have done without me, Dean? Without the information I brought you, my power?"

Dean, unmoved by Castiel's outburst, simply raised his head to look Castiel in the eye, "And what good have you been to me this year, huh, Cas? Drunk or high or both...every day. Fucking anything that moves. Anyone who'll have you."

"You're one to talk, Dean," Castiel retorts, on the verge of tears but determined not to let it show, "I think you've had relations with every woman in this camp, whether you care about them or not."

Dean stands up sharply, putting himself toe-to-toe with Castiel, "Do you think I give a fuck about any of them, Cas? I have one thing left to do in my life, find the Colt and put a bullet in Lucifer's brainpan. Nothing else matters, nothing else even comes close."

Castiel closes his eyes and sways, he thinks he's going to keel over when he feels a hand cradling the back of his head, fingers stroking roughly through his hair. He feels Dean rest his forehead against his own.

"I miss you, Dean," he whispers.

"I know, Cas. I know."

In this moment, it's almost as if this past year hasn't happened. Dean and Castiel stand back from the tree and admire their handiwork as their every breath freezes on the air.

"Can't convince you to be our treetopper this year, Cas?" Dean asks with a smile. After their argument, something had changed. There was a lightness in Dean's manner and in Castiel's heart.

Castiel grinned before answering, "I can think of something else I'd rather be sitting on."

Dean looked shocked, he was used to Cas' occasional bursts of innuendo, but seemed to consider the idea. In the wash-up of the almost-apocalypse, the Croatoan virus, losing his brother, Dean's sexuality was just a thing. He didn't feel anything beyond the physical, albeit pleasurable, release. He knew that Castiel had slept with men and women. And, if he admitted it, there were times he wanted to stay in Castiel's cabin, crawl in beside him and never leave. Dean had always put that down to a sort of infantile need for comfort, but he couldn't deny that the last few times he'd had sex, he had only gotten off after imagining clever, long-fingered hands and soft, plump lips letting out gruff moans of his name.

So he just nodded his assent and turned to walk to Castiel's cabin, his stomach unclenching as he heard the other man's soft footfalls behind.

Castiel's cabin is dark and quiet, set slightly apart from the rest of the camp, and smells of sandalwood. When Dean hears the snick of the lock he pulls an unresisting Castiel into his arms and holds him tightly. Castiel's arms circle his waist and he rests his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean's arms flex and relax involuntarily around him, telling Castiel everything he needs to know. That Dean is apprehensive, that Dean is glad for the physical contact, that he is ready.

Their mouths meet and they skip the preliminary soft touches and go straight to strong tonguing. Like they want to get inside each other and be safe. Dean can taste the hint of whisky on Castiel's breath and he licks it out of him until all he can sense is Castiel himself.

Castiel tips Dean's finger up with his chin, like he's his goddamn prom date, Dean thinks to himself, and strokes the inside of Dean's mouth with his tongue. Dean soon forgets to complain as Castiel runs his fingers in light patterns over the nape of Dean's neck, behind his ears, down his throat. Feeling intensely vulnerable, Dean pulls Castiel's hands over his head and yanks up the hem of the other man's shirt. Dean pulls off his own t-shirt and then they're chest to chest, nothing between them.

Running his hands down Castiel's chest, Dean marvels at how smooth the skin is. His mouth follows the path of his fingers and before he can really process what he's doing, he's sucking at Castiel's nipple, intermittently flicking it with a finger. Castiel tips his head back and takes in hitching breaths, "Dean!"

Both nipples are tender and aching when Dean finally pulls away and captures Castiel's mouth once more. He runs his fingers through soft, dark hair while Castiel's hands move down his back to cup his ass through his jeans. They are both half-hard now and the friction is perfect, Dean rolls his hips into Castiel, giving in to pleasure and the possessive grasp of Castiel's hands.

"Do you want this, Dean?" Castiel asks, his voice unsure, as though Dean was going to pull away at any moment and tell him this was all a mistake.

Dean huffed out a breath, "Cas, I want you to fuck me. Tonight...it's all we've got, I need you inside me. Need you to make me come," Dean's eyes are screwed shut, he didn't plan on saying anything like that and it scares him that it was the first thing his mind came up with.

Castiel seems to resolve something within himself. He leads Dean to his bed, pushing him down to sit and then starts taking off the other man's boots. Without a word, he unbuttons Dean's jeans and pulls them off his legs, taking the underwear off with them. He never says a word, in this whole process of stripping Dean, but the look in his searing blue eyes tells Dean that he's going to be fucked to within an inch of his sanity tonight.

Castiel settles on his knees, between Dean's open legs. Taking Dean's cock in one hand, he kisses the tip reverently and then dips his tongue into the eye. Gripping the bed sheets, Dean does his best not to grab Castiel's head and start thrusting up into his mouth. Castiel continues to lick Dean's dick like it's a lollipop, alternating between long licks up the shaft and suckling the head. He takes one of Dean's balls in his mouth and gives it the same wet, loving treatment.

Feeling horny as hell, Dean relaxes into Castiel's mattress, saliva-slick fingers pinching and pulling on his own nipples. The thought of Castiel pushing into him has taken root in his imagination now and his asshole clenches with the thought, the little pucker damp with droplets of pre-cum and Castiel's saliva. Almost involuntarily, Dean reaches a hand down behind himself, intent on starting the show himself.

Lifting off Dean, and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Castiel stills Dean's arm.

"Let me take care of you, Dean."

Dean thought Castiel had been doing a pretty good job of that already, but his body almost went into shock when he felt Castiel's tongue pushing at the tight, intimate ring of muscle that no one, not even Dean, had ever breached.

Castiel pushed Dean's thighs up, raising his feet off the bed and exposing his ass. He lapped at Dean's hole, tongue moving in kittenish strokes, the tip seeking entrance. Dean could feel himself getting wetter down there with Castiel's mouth.

Lowering Dean's legs back down, Castiel reached under the bed and pulled out a bottle of lube.

"Saliva is no substitute for proper lubrication," he said absently, flicking the cap and Dean felt a laugh building in his chest. He smothered most of it but Castiel smiled innocently up at him and, for a brief moment, Dean wished this was another time and place.

That thought was quickly quashed by the tip of Castiel's index finger rubbing lube on to the soft skin around his hole. Dean at once felt impossibly hot and limp, the muscles of his ass relaxing as Castiel massaged his entrance. He felt Castiel slide the tip of one finger in and as he clenched around it, Castiel made soothing noises, pressing kisses to Dean's hip. Dean relaxed and allowed Castiel's finger to push in a little further. It twisted gently, catching Dean's prostate, and he felt the overwhelming urge to come right there. The pulses of pleasure subsided a little as Castiel removed his finger but flared up again when two lube-slicked fingers pressed into him.

Dean couldn't accurately tell how long he lay there being finger-fucked by Castiel, but it was intermittently frustrating and incredibly arousing. Every time Dean pleaded with Castiel to put his cock in already, Castiel just stroked Dean's cock, or sucked on his balls again or, christ jesus, pushed his warm, thick tongue into Dean's ass.

Sex had never been like this for Dean. Even in his life before Chitaqua, he had never been afforded the chance to take his time with a woman. Wasn't even sure he wanted to. And now, at the end of the world, Castiel made Dean want so desperately. Dean wanted more time for this, more time for everything that he and Castiel would never have. Loose and aching and finally ready, he wanted Castiel to take him.

The former angel had retained one gift of his Grace, patience. But even that was tested as Dean writhed on the bed and begged Castiel to fuck him. Finally lifting his head to look at his lover, Castiel crawled up Dean's body and claimed his mouth again. Dean didn't even care that Castiel's mouth tasted of lube and his own scent, he kissed Castiel like he wanted to crawl inside of him.

"Christ, I am so ready for this, Cas," Dean moaned against Castiel's mouth.

"I'm going to do it, Dean," Castiel's words were muffled against Dean's neck, "I'm going to fill you with my cock and make you come, just like you asked. I always do as you ask, Dean."

Dean thought he heard a sob at the end of Castiel's speech, but all he could do was stroke the other man's hair and shift his hips, angling them so that Castiel's shaft rubbed against the cleft of Dean's ass.

His slick hole, so gently tended and coaxed, took in most of Castiel's length at first. Dean breathed hard, adjusting to the feeling of being so full. He'd never felt so grounded, so secure. Castiel seemed to wake up, as if from a dream and he gripped Dean's hips, fucking into him and dropping his head to take Dean's mouth.

"Cas, oh yeah, baby, please," Dean pleaded as Castiel thrust smoothly in and out of him.

Castiel, seeking more friction, spread his hands under Dean's shoulder blades and lifted him so that he was straddling Castiel's lap, riding his cock. Dean took advantage of the new position and shifted his hips up and down and around, grinding on Castiel's rock-hard length.

"Uh, uh," Dean stuttered.

Castiel burrowed his face into the side of Dean's neck and sucked sharply on his skin.

"Mark you, Dean," Castiel near babbled, "Make you mine again."

Dean reacted to this by kissing Castiel roughly on the mouth and bringing his hand up so that he and Castiel could both lick it. Dean placed his hand on his cock and jerked himself off.

"Love you Cas," Dean moaned, "You know that right?"

"Mine," Castiel breathed, "Always, beloved."

Castiel tipped Dean back down on to the bed and thrust harder, the words they had spoken rousing him to a frenzy.

Dean responded in kind and pulled Castiel in closer, squeezing the other man's ass so hard that there would be bruises and crescent shaped marks for days, forcing Castiel as deep as possible.

His cock rubbing between their stomachs and his prostate sending flashes of white-hot pleasure to his brain, Dean came with a hoarse, drawn-out cry. Castiel finished inside him, filling him to the brim and easing his withdrawal from Dean's ravished hole.

They are both spent. Dean knows that, tomorrow, he'll be up before dawn for the hunt and that Castiel will probably spend the day stoned and making out with one of his many minions. But, until then, they have tonight. Pushing away thoughts of the future, Dean pulls Castiel down, holding him so close and tight, and sleeps.


End file.
